The Legend of a Prince
by Vegeta-shun
Summary: Takes place years after Frieza destroyed Vegeta-sei and before Radditz went to Earth. Prince Vegeta can’t afford any mistakes now that his plan is so close to execution. Frieza complicates the situation... Inside for the rest
1. Chapter One

FF.net won't let me post the whole description out there, so here's the rest if that's what you're looking for… The story takes place many years after Frieza destroyed Vegeta-sei and long before Radditz went to Earth. Prince Vegeta can't afford any mistakes now that his plan is so close to execution. But Frieza complicates the situation by forcing a young alien boy to his care.

The Legend of a Prince

by: Shijima

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_Prologue_

It would be many years before Son Goku discovered his Saiya-jin heritage.  And years after that, Frieza would be defeated by the strength of the Saiyan race he has always feared.  But until then, millions of creatures pledged their allegiance to the ruthless tyrant.  His reign was all encompassing, enforced by his elite warriors.  Among them were the few remaining Saiyans in their current galaxy.  Perhaps the Saiya-jin were not the strongest within Frieza's army, but without a doubt, they were the most proud.

A planet in the east universe… Planet Zakuro, inhabited by a race whose combined power levels did not exceed the lone Saiya-jin who was sent to suppress a looming rebellion.  He had been given specific instructions: Assume the guise of a routine fiscal collection and destroy their courageous spirits.  If that were to fail, destroy _them_.  But with deadly cunning, the Saiya-jin knew precisely how to break the will of any creature.

The arrival of Frieza's favorite underling sent ripples of alarm around the entire planet.  They wasted no time and a meeting was immediately arranged between the visitor and the royal council.  The eight advisors stood of either side of their ruler, desperately trying to maintain composure as idle threats were thrown at them.  

There were serious consequences for not having payment when it was due, and it was due at the whim of Lord Frieza.  In the past twenty years, the Zakuro-jin had always managed to scrape together enough to appease the collector, but in three months since the last collection, there hadn't been time to accumulate anything close to the amount expected.  

Presently, the King of the seized planet was succumbing to the Saiya-jin's intimidating strategy.  "Please Vegeta-san, my Saiya-jin no Ouji… Please, I'm begging you, spare my people."

The Saiyan Prince inhaled deeply.  He smelled fear pouring from every being in the room, and it made him grin.  "Tell me, Shim-atsu Zakuro, when did you, the ruler of Zakuro-sei, become a sniveling coward?"  The servants trembled in the corner, and even the King himself was visibly shaking at his throne.

"B-But, Vegeta-san.  We don't have the monetary pledge of compliance for the great Lord Frieza."

"That is not my problem," Vegeta said, tiredly examining the back of his hand.  "I am only here to collect."

"But we– we don't have the monetary…"

"I am not deaf, you blue-skinned freak!  I _know_ you do not have the money.  Believe me, if Frieza didn't consider your wretched planet a valuable commodity I would have already destroyed it with you and all your people on it."  Vegeta paced the long corridor, letting his words hang in the air.  "But no matter how much I want to blast Zakuro-sei into dust, I am only here to collect."

"I'm sorry.  We do not have the–"

"If you do not have the pre-arranged payment," every cubic meter of the great hall filled with the booming sound of Vegeta's voice, "then you and I shall find a different payment of equal value!"

"My people and myself do not fancy material possessions.  I'm afraid we have nothing of equal value to offer you."

The Prince crossed his arms.  "Do your people value life, Shim?"

"Of course, Vegeta-san."

"Would you say that life is _priceless_ to you and your people?"

The King looked puzzled.  "Well, yes.  But I don't see what this has to do with–"

"I hear you have a son…"

The words fell on the King and his council like a literal load of bricks.  Each had their breaths simultaneously taken away.  King Shim-atsu's hand went to his chest, over his heart.  

_Mission accomplished, _thought Vegeta with a smirk. _ There will be no rebellion now_.

"You cannot take away the King's only son!" spoke one of the councilmen to the Saiya-jin warrior.  "The boy is all he has left since the Queen's unexpected death!  Have you no scruples?!"

An anguished cry was the next sound to come from the councilman's mouth.  A beam of light had streaked across the room and severed his leg at the knee.  He toppled to the floor and clutched the wound.  The attack was traced back to the Saiya-jin's extended finger.

Vegeta spat on the fallen Zakuro-jin.  "I don't need scruples!  I have strength!"  Then he addressed the King.  "You best advise your associates to keep their fucking mouths shut.  Next time, I won't miss."

"Of course, my Prince," replied the helpless ruler.

The wounded councilman was carried out of the expansive hallway by three of his colleagues, but the Zakurian King never took his eyes off Vegeta.  A moment of silence passed between them.  It became deadly quiet giving the semblance that everyone had ceased breathing.

"Well I don't have all day!" Vegeta exploded.  "Send someone to fetch your son.  He will be ready to depart with me in twenty minutes."

The Saiyan warrior stormed out of the cathedral-like hallway, ignoring the lethal stares and daggers directed at him.  They hated him, but none dared to challenge him, not now that adrenaline was wildly pulsating through him.  The near-kill was not enough to satisfy his raging blood lust.

The urge would need to be suppressed though, no matter how violently he resented being sent on this babysitting job.  A more important agenda was at hand and he needed a clear head when he arrived at Frieza's compound.

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A/N:  Did you like it?  I hope so.  This isn't my first attempt at a serious fic, but I'm hoping it's better than the others!  Let me know what you thought in the reviews!  But if it's criticism, be gentle.  I'm fragile ^__^

Also, I'm registered as Vegeta-shun at ff.net… but for this story, I'm going to use the penname "Shijima."  Just because.

Now, I am busy person so if I don't get a lot of positive interest, I'll just scrap the whole thing.  But I hope people will want to read the rest ^__^


	2. Chapter Two

The Legend of a Prince

by: Shijima

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_Chapter One_

The ship containing Vegeta and King Shim-atsu's son landed on the planet of Frieza's current occupation.  Immediately, men in blue suits and white armor began unloading cargo and supplies.  Vegeta exited the craft and grabbed one of them as they ran by.

"There is a Zakuro-jin boy on board.  Take him to a holding cell.  Frieza will decide what to do with him later."

The man nodded, and rejoined the frenzied crew.

Not even two steps further and Zarbon was approaching him, wearing the smug grin of an elitist.  His effeminate eyes appeared to wink at the nameless Captain of Space Control.

"What do you want, Zarbon?" the Saiya-jin sneered.

"Come now, Vegeta," he replied, rather amused.  "You haven't been gone _that_ long.  No need for your romantic pleasantries."

He gave a light chuckle when he saw the look of disdain on Vegeta's face.  He knew Vegeta hated his sarcasm, moreover he also knew Vegeta couldn't do or say anything about it, not to the most favored employee of the most powerful tyrant in the Universe.  It pleased Zarbon to no end to see that the chuckle also irritated the worthless Saiya-jin Prince.  It made him grin even wider.

"What do you _want_, Zarbon?" Vegeta forced through clenched teeth.

"Oh, there are many things I want from you, Vegeta.  First on the list, is your head on a stick after my Lord tortures you to death."  Vegeta took a deliberate step forward, but Zarbon was anything but threatened.  He continued, "But I do digress.  If you must know, I was sent to bring you to Lord Frieza's chamber.  He wants to see you immediately for a status report on that stupid planet you were visiting."

Vegeta vehemently stabbed a finger into Zarbon's armored chest.  "Let me _tell _you what I am going to do.  I am going to my _quarters_ to shower, and _then_ I will eat, and after _that_, I will meet with Frieza."

"Lord Frieza will be most displeased to hear that."

The Saiyan Prince walked away from the conversation, briefly waving a hand in the air as dismissal.  

Zarbon watched as Vegeta strut into the barracks, never giving another look back.  The doors closed behind the Saiya-jin no Ouji, and Zarbon's eyes narrowed.  He spoke to no one's ears but his own, "Lord Frieza will be _most_ displeased to hear that."

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Vegeta walked through the narrow hallways, letting his eyes adjust to the artificial yellow light.  It was doubtful he would see the sky again for days.  Such was the interval between his missions.  Currently, he was walking toward the compound's kitchen, where he could request any meal at any hour and have it delivered to his door.  But his trek was interrupted.

"Hey Vegeta!  You should have been on our last mission.  It was a massacre only Saiyan artistry could create."

Vegeta knew that gruff, barbaric voice.  Radditz.  And if that oaf was wandering the halls it meant he was accompanied by…

"Don't worry, Vegeta.  We killed a few hundred for you."  Nappa.  If it were possible for a living-being to have less intelligence than Radditz, the prime example would be Nappa.  A brainless chuckle resonated from his massive chest cavity.

"Don't you girls have better things to do than aimlessly roam the compound?"  Vegeta then laughed at the sight of them staring blankly at each other.  Insults were wasted on them.

Still confused by the majority of the last comment, Nappa replied simply, "Frieza gave us a few days off 'cuz he was so pleased by our work.  I think we set some kind of record or something."

"Congratulations," Vegeta said sardonically.  He really had better things to do than listen to Nappa and Radditz brag about recent conquests.  Even more agonizing was the fact that Vegeta knew even if they each combined their kills, it would not equal the lives he had taken.

"We need to talk to you, Vegeta."  Radditz looked both ways down the hall.  "It's important."

"Some other time."  Vegeta knew what he was referring to, but he didn't care.  "I have better things to do right now."

"But we'll talk about it soon, right?" asked Nappa.

Vegeta consented hurriedly, "Hai, okay."

Nappa continued, "Because we need to have our story straight before Frieza finds out–"

"Urusai!  Baka!"  Vegeta's loose fist hit Nappa's head with authority.  Then his fingers wrapped around the larger Saiyan's jaw and pulled it in a new direction.  "Do you see that, Nappa?  That is one of Frieza's cameras.  He has the ability to both see and hear us right now.  We'll just hope he wasn't monitoring us during your episode of stupidity."

Vegeta released his grip and Nappa rubbed the spot tenderly.  "I didn't see it there."

"That doesn't excuse anything.  Be more careful in the future."  His attention turned more directly to Radditz.  "I'll be sure to locate the both of you in the next few days to discuss these matters."

The three Saiya-jin warriors bid each other a curt farewell and returned to their previous agendas.  Nappa and Radditz retired to their own quarters.  As for Vegeta, he continued to the kitchen to seek out his meal.

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There was a light rapping at the main doors of Frieza's central chamber.  He pressed a button on his interior-controls chair and the doors swept open.  Zarbon stood on the other side.

"Permission to enter, my Lord?"

"Of course, Zarbon.  Come in.  I see Vegeta is not with you.  I was told his ship had arrived in docking, ne?"

Zarbon knelt on the cold floor, diverting his eyes to Frieza's feet.  "Yes, Lord.  Vegeta has landed.  The ship is being unloaded, however… Vegeta thought it was wise to attend to _personal affairs_ before meeting with you."

"Is that so?" Frieza muttered.  He turned the chair around to face a wall of monitors.  The screens filled the entire surface, from floor to ceiling, and showed video images from every area in the compound.  His fingers worked a keyboard and suddenly every screen on the wall changed to reveal a singular image.  Frieza studied the nondescript picture and grimaced.  His fingers tapped a new code into the button pad and a new image appeared on the wall.  He tried several more times before finding one that was satisfactory.  His hand maneuvered a small joystick on his control panel, changing the perspective of the video image.  The camera zoomed in and soon the monitors showed an enlarged image of Vegeta, punching a number sequence into a door and then entering his assigned quarters.

A few hard taps of a button and the monitors were restored to their previous images.  Frieza spun the chair around to face Zarbon again, still kneeling on the floor.

"So Vegeta thinks he can deliberately disobey me?"  The tyrant paused, taking a deep breath.  "Well Zarbon, you shall be rewarded for that information.  Do you know anything else?"

"I've overheard a few things from those wretched Saiyans, my Lord."

A wicked smile spread over Frieza's face, and his fingers strummed the arms of his chair.  "Well… do tell, my boy."

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	3. Chapter Three

The Legend of a Prince

by: Shijima

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Chapter Two 

Vegeta took a long, hot shower that afternoon.  He only wished it were enough to soothe his stiff legs, his sore back, or his aching head.  The nagging reminder of the meeting with Frieza lingered in the front of his thoughts.

He stepped out of the extravagant shower stall and stood in front of a mirror, letting himself drip dry.  He was in no rush after all. The longer he put off the meeting with Frieza, the better…

There was a knock on the double doors to his suite of rooms.  It went unanswered.  The visitor tried calling inside.  "Please excuse the intrusion, Vegeta, sir.  I have brought your meal, as you requested."  There was silence from within.  "Shall I come back later?"

A far-off voice echoed on the other side of the doors.  "It's not locked!  Use the handle like your IQ is normal and open the damn doors!  Leave the food on a table inside, and then get out of here."

Vegeta stood absolutely still and listened.  The doors clicked open and soft shuffling footsteps entered the room.  They stopped briefly as the plate was set down with a succinct _tick_ of ceramic against the metal table.  Several more ticks against the metal resonated through the rooms, no doubt the sound of needless eating utensils.  A brief pause of silence flew to Vegeta's ears that made his muscles tense but the footsteps soon shuffled out of the room and the doors shut with a solid thud.

A soft cloth was unfolded and wrapped around Vegeta's waist before he left the showering area.  He approached the plate of food suspiciously, not recognizing the contents as edible.  His nose sniffed the air several times and he finally decided it was time to get rid of the cooks and hire a more competent culinary staff.

Relenting, Vegeta wrapped his fingers around a long, spongy mass of the so-called food.  He brought it to his lips, but a noise from the hallway made him put it back on the plate.

There was yelling outside his quad.  Most of the words were garbled commands from the prison escorts:  Keep walking, boy – Tighten the restraints – Don't let him go – Keep the hall clear – Outta the way … And so on.  But there was one voice he didn't recognize.  Nor the language.  

No wait… it was familiar… It was Zakurian.  They must be taking the young Zakuro-jin Prince to the holding cells.

Vegeta stepped out the doorway at the moment they came around the corner to his hallway.  There were seven guards with loaded guns surrounding the small, blue-skinned youth.  He recognized the head of the guards in the lead; his name was Sage.  They were all harassing the boy, jabbing him with their guns and laughing as he stumbled.  One of the prods was too hard, and the boy fell to the ground.

"C'mon, you disgusting Zaku! Get up!" they jeered.  But the boy only stared at the ground mumbling to himself in his native language.  The defiance angered the guards.  Their shouts filled the halls and penetrated walls, agitating everyone in the quad.  In an act of frustration and unchecked exasperation, Sage, the guard who sent him to the floor, raised the butt of his gun in preparation to strike.

But he was unable to follow through with the swing, because his arm was arrested in mid-air by someone else's hand.  Enraged at the intrusion, Sage snapped, "Jiigoku ni otosa!  Do NOT interfere with–"  He stopped.  The hand, he finally saw, belonged to a Saiya-jin.  A very displeased Saiya-jin.

"You will NOT to hurt that boy," Vegeta snarled at the guards.  "He will be in perfect health when Lord Frieza sees him."

"B–But– But Vegeta…"

"Another word out of your mouth and you'll be joining the Zakuro-jin in the holding cells."

They all bit their tongues while the Zakuro-jin tried to pick himself up off floor.  Vegeta realized this was the first time he had seen the boy, and the first time the boy had seen him; silver eyes stared at Vegeta as the prison escorts lifted the boy completely off the ground.

"Thang-kyou… Ve-ge-tah."  

The words were broken and distorted, but comprehensible.  _So…_ thought Vegeta, _the Zakuro-jin youth knows at least one other language beside his own.  Impressive._

His eyes were locked on Vegeta.  They carried him away, but he managed to turn his head to continue staring at the stranger who had saved him.  The guards took him around another corner, after which Vegeta returned to his living quarters.

He closed the doors behind him and walked to the table with his food.  He stared at it, thinking, _The boy thanked me… He probably doesn't know that I am the one that took him from his father and his entire planet.  How sad._

Vegeta sat down to eat, a few remaining thoughts keeping him company.  _The boy looked weak, built with a slight frame, just like his father and probably just as spineless.  I can't believe I wasted my time on that planet.  If Frieza sends me on another mission like that, I won't even bother landing; I'll blow them up from space._

He suddenly found that his appetite was gone.  It might have been the disgusting shit on his plate, or the confrontation with the Zakuro-jin, or the ominous reminder of the meeting with Frieza.  Whatever the reason, Vegeta abandoned his room and began walking toward Frieza's private chamber.

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The subfloors of the compound held the dark, rancid pits of the holding cells.  The cells were infrequently used; Frieza's enforcers rarely took prisoners.

The elevator door reluctantly opened, its old gears protesting with long, tortuous groans.  The Zakurian boy set his bare feet upon the wet, muddy surface and grimaced.  There were no windows and no lights.  Everything was dark as tree pitch, save the artificial light from the elevator shaft that spilled onto the gray floor.

"You'll have plenty of privacy in your cell," said a low-class guard.  "All the other cells on this floor are empty.  You're all alone down here, Zaku."

The boy continued to stare at his feet, obviously displeased at the condition of the ground underneath them.  He wasn't paying the least bit of attention to his escorts or their mediocre attempts at intimidating him.  The apparent insolence infuriated them all.

Sage shoved him forward.  "Why don't you walk a little faster, Zaku, and stop wasting our time?"

The boy turned sharply to face his assailant, and stared at him with his eyes that resembled seething embers in his skull.  "Mah nahme iz Edam," he said slowly.  "Eet iz noot 'Zaku.'  Eet iz _Edam_."

"Is that right?"  And without warning, Sage's fist crashed down on his head.

The Zakuro-jin hit the ground with his face.  It stung as hard as it bled, but in the dull light, he could hardly see his iridescent blood as it dripped down the side of his face onto his slender fingers.

"Well Edam," Sage was standing over the boy.  "Too bad Vegeta's not here to save you this time."

Each of the seven guards unleashed their own lethal fury on the pale-skinned youth.  Well-placed blows and carefully limited force was applied.  No bones were broken and no bruises would show… but the boy learned the lesson they taught him; he would not speak against the guards again and if he could help it, he would not speak to anyone at all.  Everyone here was cruel.  Everything here was dirty and cold and painful.

Their hands were exacting.  Their kicks were relentless.  Never had he known such cruelty.  Never had he known such pain.

When the guards were through with him, they tossed his weeping, shaking body into one of the cells, locking the bars into place.  Then they returned to the elevator shaft, snickering and quite pleased with themselves.

Before the doors shut, Sage shouted to the youth, "If you're lucky, Zaku, we might bring you some food tomorrow… That is… unless we forget."

An uproarious laughter ripped through the prison guards.  The last image Edam saw was the barbarians clapping each other's shoulders and other acts resulting from escalated testosterone.  The doors closed with a definitive rattling of old, rusted metal and Edam was left in complete darkness.

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	4. Chapter Four

The Legend of a Prince

by: Shijima

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Chapter Four 

Vegeta reluctantly approached Frieza's private chamber.  It was the room in which the impatient, rat-tailed tyrant held his most important meetings; very few ever saw the inside.  Of course, Vegeta was anything but honored.  He'd rather have every bone shattered in his body than be forced into subservience by anyone.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind Vegeta with incredible speed.  The sound destroyed his concentration and nearly sent his nerves over the edge.  The first thing he saw was Frieza standing in front of a wall filled with flat monitors, each projecting different images recorded from the base.  Vegeta watched in silence as Frieza's tail continued to dance through the air.  It swished back and forth, then curled around the base of his leg.

Finally, Frieza acknowledged him by turning his head just enough for Vegeta to see his profile.  "Please come in.  Make yourself comfortable."

There was not a single decorative piece or relic of furniture in the cold room, so Vegeta ignored the inane invitation.  His eyes studied the extent of the empty walls and he didn't move.  This room looked like all the other previous palace compounds.  Frieza's tastes were predictable.  They were bland and they were…

Frieza noted that his guest was distracted.  He noted that his subordinate had not bowed or greeted him.  He noted that his pawn was showered and well fed.  Frieza returned his gaze to the security pictures.  "Your ship landed three hours ago, Vegeta.  Where have you been?"

The Saiyan Prince bowed his head.  "I was needed in the docking bay to sort and catalogue the cargo.  We encountered a period of interspace turbulence during the flight from Zakurosei; the solar winds from Star A-87B were against us and some of the instruments on board were damaged."

"That is unfortunate.  I hope everything can be repaired."

"Hai.  It has already been taken care of."

"Good to hear.  You are an efficient employee, Vegeta.  Thank you.  You are dismissed now."

"Nani?!" Vegeta blurted.  "What about the status report for Zakurosei?!"

"Ah yes, that worthless planet."  Frieza gracefully spun to meet the piercing stare of the Saiyan Prince.  "I don't care to hear your status report.  I already destroyed it."

"NANDA YO?!"

"Bite your tongue, filthy monkey!" Frieza snarled.  "You will show your superior more respect!"

Vegeta dropped to his knee and planted a hand on the floor.  "Apologies, my Lord.  I wasn't thinking."

Frieza shrugged it off and continued.  "I was told you took a Zakurian royalty as servitude pay."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Well, I have no interest in the boy.  I relinquish his care to you until further notice."

"To me?!  What am I supposed to do with him?"

"ARE YOU QUESTIONING ME?!"

Vegeta's head dipped low, his eyes cursed the ground he knelt on.  "Of course not, my Lord."  He nearly choked on the words.

"That's a good simian," the tyrant smiled.  "As for the Zakurian, I don't care what you do with him, so long as you keep him alive.  I may have plans for him later."

Vegeta raised his hurt pride from the floor and stalked toward the door, muttering a curse to the tyrant under his breath.

The doors opened, slicing through the air as the two metal halves sheathed themselves in the wall.  A crowd had gathered outside his chamber; the shouting must have sparked their curiosity.  No doubt half the palace had heard the tongue-lashing.  Frieza chuckled at the embarrassed red hue that flushed Vegeta's face.  

The haughty Saiyajin charged through the mob, never even uttering an apology to those he knocked to the ground.  The Ouji's lack of manners equaled his lack of patience, and Frieza relished the fantasy of the day he would teach the wretched monkey some respect.

The doors swished closed, and Frieza took his seat in the interior-controls chair.  He frowned as his eyes lazily scanned over the screens on the wall, but he had no interest in them.  His mind was preoccupied with the advice he had received earlier from Zarbon: _Don't kill the Zakurojin, _he had said.  _Order Vegeta to keep him alive and healthy. _ Zarbon had then hinted at a great power possessed by that race.  He argued it would be beneficial to train the boy to take Vegeta's place… but Frieza had stopped listening.  He suspected Zarbon's motives were rooted in retaliation against the Sayiajin no Ouji.  A foolish grudge of jealousy.

And why shouldn't Zarbon seek reprisal from Vegeta?  After all, the Saiyan was given the command of a thousand new recruits to Frieza's empire; a position that Zarbon had not only wanted, but deserved.  The injustice infuriated Zarbon, but rather than go after Frieza – the one who purposely overlooked Zarbon – the loyal assistant had aimed the crosshairs at Vegeta.  And while Zarbon was failing his test miserably, giving in to his debilitating weaknesses, Vegeta was passing with flying colors.

The plan was deliciously cruel and wicked: Zarbon would zealously hunt for information to disrepute the Saiyan in attempts to win back Frieza's respect, and then surrender all knowledge of insolence and treachery.  In this manner, Frieza would discover the truth about his Saiyajin no Ouji.__

"I know you're hiding something from me, Vegeta.  Your false sense of security will lower your defenses, and you will make a mistake.  Then I will know your secret and terminate whatever you are planning.  But until then… " his fingernails drummed the chair's metallic arm, resonating succinctly in the empty room, ".. Until then, let your hate for me grow.  It doesn't matter, because you will continue to obey me.  I made you, and only I can break you."

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A/N: Hey folks.  Sorry I haven't posted in a long time.  I'm trying to graduate.  Unfortunately, my true love (posting!) has taken a back seat for the last month.  Hang in there, I'll be back in full force (and fully de-stressed) in another 2 weeks!  Yay!

In the meantime, let me know what you think about this story.  Some of the writing isn't at its best (again, I don't have time to properly revise), but I'll fix it soon.

As always… R&R!!  ^___^__


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